


Cold, Cold, Cold

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drama, War of the Ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 22:50:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3746471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grima thinks on his raison d'etre ... Eowyn the White Lady of Rohan. (Drabble)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold, Cold, Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

Cold, cold, cold ...

I even loved that about her. Everything about her told a tale of beauty and sadness. A tale I desperately wanted, nay, needed to read in full. Her long flowing hair was golden sunshine. Her eyes were the stars. Her fair skin was light and beautiful as the Simbelmynë. These were the few shafts of light that managed to permeate the darkness around me.

Cold, cold, cold ...

I was cold without her. Without her there was no reason to live, no reason to greet each day and no reason to celebrate the coming years. I needed her. Cold and bleak my world was, but for her. She may have been a Shield Maiden of Rohan and as cold as a pale morning in spring clinging to winter's chill, but our souls are one. We are linked and bound. My whole life is a sorrow and woeful tale, and she too knew of darkness if only in her dreams.

Cold, cold, cold ...

I sold my soul for her ...


End file.
